from Tales & Verse from the Tower Room

by Lord David


WELL OF SLEEP

Of which well that I might drink
to bring me to eternal sleep
to dip my cup into that stream
elixir of unending dream
escaping mundane daily dross
fashioned in a manner gross
wherein each & every blade
reflects how very stars were made
in vision passing, fancy pure,
that leaves me behind to endure
when in slumber I have known
lovers of no flesh and bone
but gossomer and wind and sky
of beauty such transcends the eye
where pleasures endless multiply.
Adventures of the strangest kind
challenge limits of my mind
senic vistas shift and change
sea and mountain rearrange
ride on wingback, fall and fly,
breathe of color, feel with eye,
yet waken to this morbid shell
and leave behind what none can tell.
Now separation takes it's toll
passing faces grim and cold
contact at it's best so fleeting
each heart in a cage is beating
touch- a mere and hopeless taste
desire's greed has laid to waste
whatever comfort offered there
is soon dipped in rich despair
a feast on each and every plate
stuffed with solitary fate.
Me, I shun this bitter taste
rather a toast that I shall make
bring me none for I shall wait
for wine steeped long with opiate
and dip my cup into that stream
to plunge me into endless dream
of that well that I might drink
to bring me to eternal sleep.